I lay in bed at 2:30 in the morning with a nasty sore throat and cough. For days I had become progressively worse and I really didn’t know what to do. I had taken teas, gargled with warm salt water, guzzled apple cider vinegar, you name it.
So I was just sitting there (because laying down made it worse), couldn’t sleep, so I started doing research on the metaphysical reason why we get sick in the throat and I found that it’s due to the inability to express ourselves or speak our truth.
I had to face it. I hadn’t written anything in a while and recently quit my first/last casino job.
Having worked as a server before, I decided to take on the job and just give it a try. Things were going pretty well until they decided to put me on the graveyard shift working from 12am to 8:30am every day but I couldn’t do anything about it since they give the new people the worst shifts and I had to accept it. Even though I voiced my concern, that was part of the job. I have never been a night owl. I was always the girl who goes to bed at 10pm for a great majority of my life, except for a period of time when I dated a computer science nerd who went to bed frequently at 5am and slept all day.
So, the job was weird like that and I started to be faced with the reality that I really didn’t need to be doing a job like that because I had already been to school and could probably get a better job. I was surrounded by people who felt stuck in the job and accepted unusual working conditions and crap from people because they had bills to pay and kids to feed.
One of my coworkers looked at me one day and asked. So let me get this straight…”you’re single, Latina, 30, with no kids? That’s rare.”
Yea, I know it is. I was so out of my element while I worked there and I wasn’t writing at all because I was always so tired. Working in the casino really made me think about myself and what I was doing. I was educated with no children. I didn’t need to be there, but I was there, why? That’s what I really had to come to terms with.
As I lay there at 2:30 in the morning, I turned on the T.V. and a program came on about women comedians. One of the first things I ever wanted to be was a comedian because I loved to make people laugh.
At that moment, I realized I wasn’t living my truth. My body got sick in order to remind me to live my freaking truth. Not that I’m going to go out and be a comedienne, but I needed to express myself more than I was. Sometimes we don’t want to listen but the body will make you. Sometimes pills, cough syrup, even our alternative medicinal remedies aren’t going to heal us. It’s figuring out the real shit that’s going on in our hearts/minds/souls that we need to pinpoint, figure out, and deal with in order to heal.
And I literally had to create something in order to heal. I literally had to sit my ass down and start writing in order to feel better because I was finally telling my truth and unclogging my fifth chakra, where truth telling comes from.
So another lesson I learned from the metaphysical world. If you get sick in your throat, you need to say what you need to say. That’s it.